Beneath
by many things converge
Summary: The truth is that he wakes up each morning not believing he's even real. It takes him a while to get used to himself. Warnings: slash Trally, minor, lime, a few fuzzy bunny moments, AU and reasonable OOC CHAP SIX UP!
1. The Freak In The Mirror

**A/N:** I know, I know. It's weird. But think about it. Think about all their little "moments" together. Plus, they're my two favorite characters. v

**Warnings:** slash (Trally), minor, lime, a few fuzzy bunny moments, AU and reasonable OOC; and, of course, the required angst.

**Summary:** Losing Lily, and then Bridget (twice) has changed Travis. The constant cut-downs from a domineering father don't help much either. Bit by bit, he began to drift from Lily, Robbie, and Ray into his own world. Soon, he changed the outsides to match the insides. Who can save him, and look beneath what he's become?

**Beneath**

_by HoldenHitHollywood_

Chapter One: The Freak In The Mirror

It's seven AM, and he's staring into the mirror. He realises that he never used to care this much about his appearance, not until... three months ago. He shakes his head and wonders, _Has it really been that long?_

The reflection staring back at him is a face that has evolved slowly since the day he broke. He studies himself. Black hair with a vibrant blue streak running through the right side of his bangs. Eye's lined heavily with black, eyelids shimmering grey, making his eyes appear wider than before; an openness he craves but can never quite reach. His lips are black too, as are most of his clothes. He touches his face, the one he's not entirely sure he recognises, and sees black nailpolish covering his fingernails.

He sighs and looks at the clock. He's spent fifteen minutes staring into the mirror. He'll probably be late for school. He grabs his book bag with no great enthusiasm, and heads for the door. Today is going to be a great day.

* * *

He approaches the attendance office cautiously, lining up behind two other people. The line progresses quickly, and he plays with the silver mood ring on his right ring finger. It can't decide between black or blue. Then the person in front of him walks out of the office. The woman at the desk looks up at him, one eyebrow quirked. She smiles faintly.

"So, Mr.Strong, late again, I see?" She say this as she writes his name down on a chart that Travis is very familiar with.

Travis grins and replies, "Late again, Mrs.Johnson. Maybe I'll start coming in early, mix it up a little."

"It would make my job easier," Mrs.Johnson says, looking up. "Okay, now, what's your reason for being tardy?"

"Overslept." This is said by the both of them; it's the excuse Travis always uses. Mrs.Johnson had given up asking him what the real reason was about one month, a week, and two days ago. The truth is that he wakes up each morning not believing he's even real. It takes him a while to get used to himself. And he's counted exactly how long ago it was that she stopped asking; he likes to keep track of when people stop talking to him, or caring about him. It's his own little special form of masochism.

"Alright, m'dear, you are all set." She hands him a hall pass, and shoos him out of the office, grinning. "Now leave, and I never want to see you back here. Got it, Mr.Strong?"

He nods and grins as he exits. When he reaches his locker, however, his grin fades into a resigned frown. He should know better than to think that today might actually be different from any other day. He touches the black writing there, and his hand comes away clean. _Great_, he thinks, _it's probably permenent_. Usually he'd just sigh and shrug, and start putting his books away, but today he just drops his book bag, and falls forward to lean against the word. **FREAK**. Normally, he doesn't care because he's used to it. But today is different for some reason. No matter who he is, he will never fit in. It's shallow, yes, but nice too, if you find the right people. And he wants that back, for just a moment.

The bell rings, signifying the end of first period, and knocking him out of his daze. He picks his book bag up, and opens his defaced locker. He has just begun putting books in it when a voice sounds from behind him.

"Some people in this school are dumb." He turns to face Parker, who's looking at him with that perpetual smile of hers. Unnerving, and at the same time comforting. He doesn't say anything; it's been so long since one of his peers really spoke to him, he doesn't know what to say. Parker seems to get this. "Don't worry about it. Whoever wrote it is obviously too chicken to say it to your face. They're not even worth thinking about."

"Thanks." And it comes out so easily that he surprises himself. But only for a moment. "I'm used to it, anyway." He closes his locker door, and the garishness of the word hits him again. It shows in his eyes.

"Yeah," Parker says, lightly touching his arm, "but that doesn't make it hurt any less."

He turns to look at her again, and her smile hits somewhere deep inside of him. As she walks off and waves at him, he thinks about it. Just one small moment of true human connection, and he's practically undone. It's pathetic, but at the same time comforting. At least he knows that there's someone there, just off in his peripheral vision; someone he didn't completely push out of his life. He walks to class.

* * *

World Civ is boring for once. Usually Travis would enjoy learning about ancient civilizations, but today his own problems are occupying his mind. Thoughts buzzing around his brain like bees, poised to sting. He's chewing on the end of his mechanical pencil when the announcement comes on the loudspeaker. "The following students please report to the Principal's office immediately: Margaret Gelbart, Simon Brown, Ashley Owens, Travis Strong, and Horace Green." The ooohs and aaahs annoyed Travis, and nothing more. The only ones who didn't really comment were Robbie and Lily. Ray had opted for US History, seeing as he had failed it last year. Travis gathered his things and made his way down the hall to Wally's office. He had been calling him Wally ever since Maggie had used the name. He found it amusing, especially when he called the Principal "Wally" to his face. He loved that flustered look of indignation and confusion.

He checks in with the secretary, and takes a seat between Ashley Owens and Maggie. Maggie merely nods at him with music blaring from her headphones. It's The Beatles, and Travis finds himself bobbing his head to the music. Other people find it odd that Maggie listens to The Beatles, but Travis knows and appreciates that she is an enigma wrapped up in a riddle. He patiently waits for his name to be called. Finally, after Horace is released from the office, it's Travis's turn. Waller appears at the doorway. He smiles in his sardonic way.

"Ah, Mr.Strong. So nice of you to show up. Shall we?" Travis gives Wally his own half smirk and follows him into his office. They both sit down, Travis sitting up straight as always, and staring at Mr.Waller.

"So, Mr.Strong. Do you know why you're here?" Wally has his hands folded on his desk. Travis copies him, earning a 'so you wanna play _that_ game?' look.

"I'm not exactly sure, no."

"Well," Waller says, lifting a piece of paper up in front of him and studying it for a moment, "it seems you've been late five times in as many days. No to mention last week. And the week before that. I'm sure you get the picture." Waller puts the paper down and looks at Travis.

"So, Wally, what's it gonna be? Saturday detention? Suspension?" Travis leans back slightly in his seat, staring at the older man sitting in front of him. As he stares, he can't help but notice the exhaustion that emanates from him. The tan skin is smooth and tired, and he wants to touch it. _What?_ He stops thinking, and Waller starts talking.

"Travis. I'm concerned. Your grades have been slipping, and I have noticed a distinct lack of socialization. Are things going well at home?" Travis just looks down. He wants to tell him everything, and he can't figure out why. He's not really concerned, anyway, just doing his job. And Travis doesn't begrudge him that. But he wants to.

"What can I say? Nobody wants to hang out with the school freak." It comes out harsher than he thinks he feels it. And Waller just sits there for a moment.

"And what's going on at home?" He has a knowing look in his eyes that absolutely infuriates Travis. He just barely hides that anger when he replies.

"Nothing much."

Waller nods, seeming to concede for the moment. "Alright then. I'll be seeing you the next three Saturdays, Mr.Strong. You may return to class."

They continue to stare at each other for a full minute before Travis finally break the gaze, collects his things, and leaves the room. As he walks down the hall to math, he silently simmers. He somehow _knows_. And it's unnerving, to say the least. And he wants to **touch** him; touch Wally. Waller. Mr.Waller. _That's right_, he thinks, _Mr.Waller: your PRINCIPAL!_ He stops screaming at himself in his head when he reaches the classroom. All he does is sit in the back left corner of the room, and try not to be too obvious about his confusion. And he knows it's ridiculous to think that other people can see what he's feeling, but he does it nonetheless; it's just a silly little human characteristic.


	2. Sinking In

**A/N:** And now for installment 2! Huzzah!

**Warnings:** same as before... slash (Trally), minor, lime, a few fuzzy bunny moments, AU and reasonable OOC; and, of course, the required angst.

**Beneath**

_by HoldenHitHollywood_

Chapter Two: Sinking In

"Get that shit off your face, Travis. We're having company over."

Travis just stands there, staring at his father's face. There are lines; deep grooves that look as though they're set in stone. He stares a little bit harder, trying to get past the deep layers of frost. But the face stays the same and advances on him, mouth opening.

"Did you hear me, Travis? I won't have my son looking like a fucking delinquent **fairy** in front of my fellow officers!" Spit is flying out of his mouth to lightly fleck Travis' pale face. He merely blinks at this. He's used to it; his father has a habit of getting up in people's faces, especially his. He doesn't think he'll ever get to the core of him; what makes him who he is. He doesn't understand it, and he hates his own father.

"Yes sir." His voice isn't quite as cold, but still bleeding contempt. They stare at each other until, finally, Travis relents. He can't take that hard, unfeeling gaze for long. As much as he hates it, it still hurts.

Upstairs, he tries to find some of his old clothes to wear. He manages to find a brown plaid shirt and a pair of dark grey cargo pants. He washes the make-up off in his bathroom. He looks at himself in the mirror. His face doesn't look quite as pale as when he has the make-up on, but he can still tell. His eyes seem so much more open. Not wide, but just... _They say the eyes are the window to the soul..._ And it explains why he puts curtains on his. He turns away from his reflection. When it comes time to change into his old clothes, he almost can't do it. Even though he knows he can, he feel like he won't be able to fit into them anymore.

He puts them on anyway. He passes by the mirror quickly on his way through the upstairs hallway. For a moment, he stops on the middle of the staircase, and wishes he could stay there forever. But he knows he can't, and so he descends into his own personal hell.

Dinner is spent ragging on Travis. Mostly it's his father.

_"This stupid shit here can't even pass Algebra. I'll be surprised if he even graduates."_

_"He's a fucking delinquent..."_

_"Wish I'd disciplined 'im more... maybe then he wouldn't be such a sissy..."_

Of course, most of these points are moot. Travis isn't really a math person, but he tries. He gets in trouble more than he used to, but he's never been involved with the police; nothing that bad. And he knows many different methods of self defense. He's strong. Even his last name says so. But that doesn't stop his father from saying it all, and meaning it. And some of his friends are laughing along, or agreeing, or comparing their own kids. And one or two of his father's army buddies actually look fairly uncomfortable. They won't look Travis in the eye. His mother isn't much help; she's silent, as she usually is in these situations.

Whatever inspired these two human beings to come together and procreate, he'll never know. He does know that he never had a choice in the matter, and that sucks. So he suffers through dinner; through all the subtle barbs and outright emotional assaults. He doesn't really know why, and he doesn't care to examine it. He just feels glad when it's over. He gets undressed, and falls onto his bed. He's so tired. He can feel himself slipping upside down; that horrifying, irresistable vertigo. He feels like he's falling out of himself, and he likes it. It scares him. Soon the feeling subsides, and he's just exhausted. But it takes him a while to fall asleep. He's trying so hard not to cry.

* * *

He arrives at the school fairly early. His detention is for eleven AM until twelve thirty PM, and it's ten thirty-four. Definitely early, and he's not sure why he's bothered. He leans against the door of a random classroom and breathes deep. Part of him knows why he's come early. He wants to see Waller, to talk to him. He does his best to ignore that part, push it to the back of his head. He doesn't see anyone in the immediate vicinity, so he turns up his music a bit and wanders down the hall. It's only when he's three quarters of the way there that he realizes that he's heading toward Waller's office. He stops for a moment in front of a trophy case to finally examine these feelings.

He thinks about Waller. The way he talks to him. Like they could be friends, if there weren't that pesky student/principal relationship thing. And he wants to wrap his arms around him. He doesn't want to be having these thoughts, but he can't help it, and he loves the thought of touching the man. But more than just touching, he wants to tell him everything. Wants to tell him about his father, how he can't see him anymore, just this thing that he's become. How he isn't sure who he is now, or how he even changed. How he misses his friends, but is so afraid that the gap is far too big to cross that he might fall through, and keep going down forever. His head snaps around as his ear phones are removed from his head. Surprise, surprise; it's Waller. He turns his music off.

"Well, well, well... Mr.Strong." That sardonic smirk is back on his face, and for a moment, Travis just stares at his lips.

"Wally. What's up?" His voice comes out casual, except inside he's bubbling and boiling over. He's not quite sure how to stop it. The look on Waller's face becomes just a bit more stern, only Travis can see the humor in his eyes. That's another thing about Waller; one can always read him just by looking him in the eyes. And they are nice eyes to look into. Chocolate with flecks of hazel.

"So, you're late every other day, but when it comes to detention, you're early?" Waller quirks an eyebrow, and Travis takes a moment to reply.

"You know me, Wally. I just love punishment." The almost-sexual nature of what Travis has just said hits them both full on. Travis's cheeks turn an embarassingly noticable shade of pink, but his face remains sarcastic. It really is a very odd look. But Waller is too busy clearing his throat and shifting around to notice.

"Yes, well... why don't we just get started early then?" He nods to himself and, without a word from Travis, starts leading the way to the room he'll be spending detention in. Travis sighs, shakes his head, and follows Wally down the hall.

* * *

It's been quite for what seems like forever. Travis looks at the clock. It's eleven fifty. He blinks and tries not to fall asleep. He spreades his hands out, palms down on the desk, and stares at them for a moment. Tick tock. He sighs and looks up at Wally who seems to be leaning his head on his hand, intrigued in a newspaper article. Upon closer inspection, however, Travis comes to the conclusion that Wally is, in fact, asleep. He grins.

He gets up slowly, and takes his nailpolish out of his bag. He quietly makes his way over to Waller, who is now snoring lightly. He hesitates for a moment, when Waller shifts slightly, his snoring letting up. He doesn't breathe until he hears the light intake of breath that indicates that he's still sleeping. He moves stealthily over to the desk. Waller's hand is in the perfect position. He smiles, and takes his time painting Waller's nails a very flattering shade of black, all the while resisting the urge to burst out laughing. He silently hopes he'll get another detention for this.

* * *

Travis is scrawling senselessly on a random piece of paper. The black ink is sinking into the page, and he's just watching it spread as he writes random words and phrases, makes spirals and squares and bubbles floating up to the edge of the page. For a moment it feels like reality is suspended, and he can see everything in deep focus. The bubbles on his paper actually start floating up the paper, and then off of it completely and into the air. His words on the page mesh together, tangling in each other and becoming a confused jumble of black lines in the middle of the paper. The spirals do just that; spiral in and out, in and out. He sees his hand gripping the side of the table hard. And then another, but it's going the wrong way. Travis doesn't get it. He really doesn't.

"Mr.Strong!" The shout startles him out of his waking dream. He blinks at the hand that's not his. His eyes travel up the arm to the shoulder, the neck, and then the face. It's Waller. He's in deep shit this time. But there's something in the older man's eyes that startles Travis almost as much as the shout that woke him. Concern. His eyes become deep, pools of brown and flecked with hazel. Travis wants to drown in them.

"Wha..." He's having trouble finding his voice. "What time is it?" He's so quiet it almost hurts. The look in Waller's eyes doesn't go away, but recedes only slightly. The hand that was on the desk disappears from view. He clears his throat.

"It's twelve forty, Mr.Strong. Detention has been over for ten minutes." The silence that follows seems virtually impermeable. And both just stay where they are, waiting for the other to say something. The silence reigns for minutes. Travis breaks it with a sigh. It is heavy and defeated and, most of all, lonely. Waller's newly painted hand reaches out for a moment, stops midair, then falls back to his side. Travis sees it, and wishes he would've kept going.

"I don't want to go home." The words are out of his mouth before he can think about it. And they're true (probably the truest thing he's ever said), but he also wants a reason to just stay near the man at his side. It hits him hard, realising he doesn't want to go. His stomch drops down to his feet and his heart jumps up into his throat when he thinks about going back home; being anywhere but here. He looks up at Waller. Danny. And stares into his eyes. And the spell is broken.

"Why don't you want to go home, Travis?" His tone is professional with a hint of the concern from before still present. Travis smiles sadly. He has to go somewhere. It can't be home. He's not ready to tell Wally yet. Might not be for a while. He won't let it slip again.

"I'm in trouble here, I'm in trouble there." Waller's eyebrow quirks up, and he elaborates. "I got grounded for getting detentions." The blatant lie doesn't work for either of them. Travis knows it sounds like a cop-out, but he can't back out of it now. Waller knows it's a lie, but he won't push Travis if he's not ready, just hopes he's ready soon. Travis gets up and walks out after seeing Wally nod. He's not going home; he's going someplace he hasn't been in a while. It's a place he used to think of as home. He wonders if anybody will be there. Hopes they won't be.


	3. Did You Miss The Subtext?

**A/N:** And now for installment 3! Huzzah! Thanks to those of you who were nic enough to review. It means a lot.

So, thank you:  
_redrose2310  
MedicatedAndDedicated  
Bridget  
Dark-Lady-Devinity_

**Warnings:** same as before... slash (Trally), minor, lime, a few fuzzy bunny moments, AU and reasonable OOC; and, of course, the required angst.

**Beneath**

_by HoldenHitHollywood_

Chapter Three: Did You Miss The Subtext?

Travis walks up to the old abandoned warehouse he once thought of as home. That was before he realised that all homes are conditional. He knows they shouldn't be, but he also knows that that's the way it is. The words come to him before he can even blink: _"If you want to live under my roof, you will live by my rules."_ It's been said to him more times than he can count, because he's always been a 'troublemaker'. He's silently glad that when Bridget was around, she had the decency not to tell anybody about the sordid details of his past. She only told the goofy ones, the ones she wanted to remember. He doesn't have that option; he's far too deep in his own skin.

He sighs deeply, and tests the door to see if it's open. He knows he really doesn't need to because it's always open, but lately he somehow feels like every door he tries to open is locked. The door gives slowly, and he enters the room cautiously. He honestly expected one of them to be here, and is surprised to find no one. The equipment is still all there; he never felt the need to take any of it back. He had heard around school that RFR was still on the air, sans Smog. He found out that people actually miss his fortune cookie bullshit. He kind of misses it too, sometimes. But he's lost faith. He knows it, and it's not without reason. Bhuddism was his way of dealing with the world, and it fell apart three months, one week, three days, eight hours, and 42 minutes ago. He's kept close track of exactly how long it's been, kept reminding himself of his every shortcoming. Especially his most important one: the inability to truly communicate. It's deeply attatched to his anger issues (which he has thanks to his father), and at one time he ignored it completely. Now all he wants to do is keep reminding himself how much of a failure he is. It's like he told Wally, he just loves punishment. Especially the self-inflicted variety.

He closes the door behind him and sets his bag down on the couch. He quietly makes his way to the booth, and wonders who's been operating the equipment. He thinks it's probably Robbie, even though he never really knew how. He knows they would never let Ray near anything but his own microphone (and even that can be dangerous at times), and Lily has too many segments involving her guitar (there'd be no room). So it had to be Robbie. He is glad that it's someone responsible. He checks under the side panel, and is shocked to find that his sleeping bag is still there. Of course, he's glad, but it makes him wonder. _'Do they expect me to come back?'_ The thought circles in his mind as he spreads the sleeping bag out, and goes to get his bag from the couch. Once he's gotten settled in in his little booth, he slips into the sleeping bag. He lays there for a while, just relaxing. And suddenly, he's so tired he can barely keep his eyes open. He falls asleep, letting the sadness in just before consciousness slips away.

* * *

_He's sitting in the booth, only the lighting in the room is green. He thinks this odd at first, but it's soon pushed out of his mind as he sees Ray walking into the warehouse room._

_"Hey," he says, nodding at him. Ray stops, and just stares at him, not speaking._

_"Ray? You alright, man?" Travis is about to get up and walk over to him when Ray approaches him instead. He enters the booth, and leans over toward Travis, pushing him back in his chair. He kisses him softly on the forehead, and leans back slightly, smiling._

_Travis tries to say his name, but he can't speak. He can feel his vocal chords vibrating, but nothing's coming out of his mouth._

_"There," Ray says, "you're all better now. So you can wake up."_

_

* * *

_

"Wake up." He feels himself being shaken, soft at first, then harder.

"C'mooon, Travis!" The voice sounds familiar. His eyes crack open, and he sees pale skin, blond hair falling in his face. He spits out a few stray hairs, and stares confusedly at the girl leaning over him.

"Lily? What are you...?" He looks around for a moment. "What's going on?"

Lily sits back on her calfs, and lets a small smile grace her face. Travis sits up, and leans forward placing his head in his hands. He has a headache. "Idunno," Lily says, answering his question, "why don't you tell me?"

"I fell asleep at about one o'clock... What time is it?" He takes a tissue offered by Lily, and raises an eyebrow at her.

"Ya got a little," she gestures around her mouth, grinning. Travis realizes that he forgeot to take his makeup off before he fell asleep, and starts to scrub at his face vigorously.

"Yeah, it's six thirty at night." Lily shifts into a more comfortable sitting position, leaning against the wall next to Travis. "I don't wanna sound mean... but... what are you doing here?"

The question hangs in the air for over a minute. Travis finishes wiping off his makeup, having gathered about three more tissues in the process. Finally he answers. "I got a Saturday detention for being late so much. I didn't wanna go home." He shrugs.

"Oh," Lily says, drawing her knees up to her chest, and wrapping her arms around them. "Can you tell me why?" Her voice is softer now. Soothing.

Travis merely shakes his head. His brain is pounding in his skull, but he's trying to ignore it. "Lily..." His voice trails off for a moment before he clears his throat. He's on the verge of tears. "How badly have I messed things up?" He looks at her now, and her face is calm, like she's considering the question.

"I don't know, Travis. Honestly? It's pretty bad. Only because you didn't stick around..." She looks at him, and he can't help it. He puts his head in his hands and the tears come bursting out of him, violent sobs racking his body. Lily seems distressed by the whole situation, but he can't stop. So she reaches out and wraps her arms around him, not knowing what else to do. He's falling apart, safe and warm, in a place he once thought of as home. He can't hold it in, and he wants to tell Lily everything. All about his father, how he's so cold and uncaring, and he's terrified that he'll end up the same way. About his mother, how they used to be so close, and now she just ignores him. About Waller, and how he wants to kiss him, wants to be held by him, how wrong it is (and how right it _feels_). About Ray; how sorry he is, and how he wishes he could take everything back and make it all better.

But he just cries into her sleeve as they rock back and forth.

* * *

Sunday passed rather easily in Travis' mind. He was 'brought' back home by Lily at around eight o'clock Saturday night. That is to say, she left him at the door. He was going to face his parents alone. Only they weren't there. He saw a note his mother had left on his door. They had gone out with friends. Somehow, he hadn't been surprised. He had done normal-people things that night. Gone online, listened to obscenely loud music, all while the television was on. It felt good to be 'normal' for a bit.

And then Monday rolled around. As it had always seemed to happen, the day started by him waking up miserable. He managed to get all his make-up on without much trouble, and his clothes too. He now sits in English, and he's been on auto-pilot all day. Lily is in this class. He doesn't look at her. He's ashamed, and for some reason thinks he's made things worse. '_She was so uncomfortable around me... Lily, the sweetest person on earth, was uncomfortable while I cried in her arms. Like a little bitch..._' That last is his father speaking, and it scares him. His thoughts are directed at the far wall, where he is currently staring. The English teacher hasn't come into the room yet, and it's already five minutes into the period. Parker, who sits next to Travis, leans toward him.

"Hey there, buddy. What's up? Ya feelin' okay?"

Travis tilts his head at a slight angle to look at her. She's frowning slightly at him, a questioning look in her eyes.

"No... this weekend wasn't that great..." His thoughts trail off as he sees Waller walking into the room. Parker pokes him, one eyebrow now raised in a gentle upward arc. "I-I'll tell you about it later..." He nods to himself, and looks down at his notebook.

Mr.Waller is saying something in the front of the room. Travis only catches some of it inbetween his hurried thoughts. '_Oh God, Oh God, Oh God..._'

"...her mother is sick... rather unexpected..."

'_I can't stay in here! But I can't leave; he'll get suspicious..._'

"...be teaching until a suitable replacement..."

'_...I'm gonna die. Or not. Don't be so melodramatic! Jesus Christ, I can't handle this..._'

Travis looks up toward the front of the room. He is going to have to face this. His eyes lock with Waller's, and for a moment everyone is silent. Travis stays completely still, like a deer caught in headlights. Something is communicated in that moment. Travis isn't sure what, but he knows it's important. It is Waller who breaks eye contact. He clears his throat, and looks down at the desk, out the window, back to the class.

"Where was I?" He has that nervous grin on his face. Usually Travis would grin himself at that, but he is too busy trying not to look at Danny. And yes, he thinks of him as Danny. The rest of the class is spent trying to avoid eye contact, and failing.


	4. Better Luck Next Time

**A/N:** And now for installment 4! Huzzah! Thanks, again, to those of you who were nice enough to review. It means a lot. Also, I've noticed some inconsistencies in my story vs. canon. Most have to do with secondary characters, such as Travis' father. He's a diplomat, apparently, and perhaps not in the army as I seemed to think he was. My view on it is that he was probably in the army at one point. So, now that I've said that... If you see any other inconsistencies, please bring them to my attention in a constructive way. Either I don't know I've done it, or it had to be changed for plot purposes. Thank you very much!

**Warnings:** same as before... slash (Trally), minor, lime, a few fuzzy bunny moments, AU and reasonable OOC; and, of course, the required angst.

**Beneath**

_by HoldenHitHollywood_

Chapter Four: Better Luck Next Time

English class is more uncomfortable than usual. More than once, Danny has called on Travis to answer a question. And more than once, Travis has stuttered while replying. And there are only three other people in the room who seem to be catching onto this phenomenon. And Travis has just noticed that Lily, Robbie, and Parker seem to be looking at him strangely after he answers said questions. And he honestly can't wait for this class to end. _How long is he going to be teaching this class for?_ He thinks as he grips his desk hard.

"So, uh... read chapter five, and you'll have a quiz next class." Just as Danny finishes his sentence, the bell rings, and Travis can't help but think of it as a blessing. He quickly puts his books in his bag and scrambles to exit the room and join the throng of students stampeding through the halls. He can't help himself; he looks back. And he sees him there, standing by himself, looking straight into his eyes. He tries to look away, but he can't. He decides that it's time to get this over with. He waits outside the classroom.

By the time Danny walks out of the classroom, most of the students have already left. Only a few remain behind for afterschool activities and detentions. Danny stops, turns, and looks at Travis. They stare at each other for a few moments, and Danny gestures toward the classroom. Travis nods, and walks in ahead of Danny, dropping his bookbag to the floor near the desk. The older man places his belongings next to Travis', and they stare at eachother once more.

"So," Travis says, afraid of the silence.

"Did you want to tell me what's going on?" Danny leans against the desk, a relaxed posture that surprises Travis; there's so much tension in the room he can practically feel it.

"My dad hates me." The words are out of his mouth before he knows it. And somehow he's closer to Danny than he was just a second ago. he wonders how that happened.

"Does he...?" Danny seems tense now, ready for the worst, but he relaxes slightly at Travis' next words.

"No. He just hates me. It's verbal, mostly..." he trails off for a moment, again wondering how he and his principal suddenly got so close to each other, because he certainly doesn't remember covering the distance. He speaks again. "My mom ignores it. She ignores me." His eyes drift down to the floor for a minute. He's about to cry; he's gonna break again.

"Well, there are..." Danny trails off. They're so close. Travis doesn't want him to see him cry. He needs to do something. And all it takes is a step forward. Lips are touching, and Travis doesn't care anymore; he wants to be here, like this. Danny seems stiff for a moment, but when Travis places his hands on the older mans shoulders, he begins to give in. He wraps his arms around Travis' waist, and deepens the kiss. One hand moves up to rake through soft black hair, and presses on the back of Travis' head. Travis parts his lips, letting Danny take the lead, and he does for a moment. Suddenly, Danny seems to regain his senses, and he lets go entirely. Travis is still hanging onto him, and he can't help but let out one word, "...please..."

Danny's hands move to the boys arms, and Travis breaks again. Only this time, he doesn't cry. This time he pulls himself away, angry. Why does he fuck everything up all the time? He's just kissed his teacher. Thats wrong, he knows it. But what makes him most angry is the question he doesn't want to answer: why did Danny stop? He storms out of the room, leaving his bag by the desk. He doesn't care about it right now, anyway. He doesn't even see where he's going, he just lets his legs carry him away, past his locker, until he collides with something hard. It takes him a moment or two to realise that he's near the gym, and that the person he's just rammed into at top speed is none other than Carter. The asshole jock that once upon a time thought he could push Travis around.

"Watch where you're going, freak."

Travis's anger breaks out of him, and he pushes the older boy up against the door to the boys locker room. Before Carter has a chance to look shocked, Travis is kissing him, bruising his lips with the intenisty of it. At first he doesn't respond, but when Travis pulls away, he pulls him back. They walk backwards, kissing, into the boys locker room. Breaking away for a moment, they make their way to the handicap stall, where Carter is pushed up against the wall again, this time his head smacks tile, but he only groans and lets Travis kiss him again. Travis doesn't know how it happens, but suddenly they're both naked from the waist down, and he is staring straight into Carter's eyes as he enters him. No preparation, no warning. And Carter just bites down on his bottom lip and takes it. Thrust after thrust, Carter is being pounded into the wall, and he moans and cries out. By now he's closed his eyes, but Travis is still looking right at him; staring him in the face, and hating him. There is no kissing as it ends as suddenly and violently as it began. Travis pulls out, and he can see his cum and Carter's blood dripping onto the floor as the brown haired boy steadies himself against the wall. He can feel Carter's sticky cum on his stomach, and he can see some of it on the front of his shirt. He swears as he wipes it off with some toilet paper, and a stain is still left. '_That's what I get for wearing black..._' He pulls up his pants, and tucks his shirt in so that the stain is covered. He looks quickly at Carter, leaning against the wall, panting, just as he's panting himself, and he hates himself just as much as he hates the asshole in front of him. Carter looks him in the eye, smiles, and pulls up his pants.as well. This time it's Travis who is pushed up against the wall, only it's gentle. Carter kisses him and grins at him tauntingly.

"I'll see ya later."

After Carter leaves, Travis just stands there for a bit. Then he heads home to take a shower.

A/N: I realise it's not that long, but it is what it is. Hopefully, I'll get inspired again soon. Thanks so much for hanging in there with me!


	5. Another Word For Dying

**A/N:** Thanks for all the niceness in review form and stuff! Oh, and be prepared for more Carter. He's not leaving any time soon. Of course, the original plan _was_ for him to be a one time thing, but he refused to leave the plot. Plus, I kinda left it open because I wasn't sure at first. ;; Anyway, I'm not sure how many more chapters yet, but I think we're nearing the middle. Maybe a surprise ending? Hmmm... Enjoy chapter FIVE!

**Beneath**

_by HoldenHitHollywood_

Chapter Five: Another Word For Dying

Travis can hear his father in the kitchen. The fridge opens, the sound of glass against metal, and then the door closes with a bang. He wishes he wouldn't drink. It's a problem, but not as big a problem as the coldness. He was only a little better before the drinking. Now, it's like he's dead. Dead and useless. He hears the heavy footfalls enter the living room.

"Watching cartoons?" He laughs at his own stupid joke, which isn't really a joke at all. Travis says nothing. The remote is grabbed from his hand, and the TV screen goes blank. A black blur makes its way past his head and hits the far wall. "You answer me when I ask a question! Jesus fucking Christ... think ya melted yer brain with all that hair dye..." He goes on and on, talking about how hair dye is for pansies, if _his_ father had caught him watching cartoons, he would've gotten the shit beaten out of him. At first, Travis wants to stab his father in the face, because that _might_ get him to shut the fuck up. But then, like usual, he lets the bullshit blur into the background. After a while, his father leaves to go torment his mother. Travis sits for a while, staring at the blank screen. He starts thinking about Waller, and all the shit going on with him. Why did he do it? And that leads him to think about Carter, how good it had felt... and how stupid he was for doing it. He tries to make himself get up and get the remote, but he can't. So he falls asleep there on the couch, and has a dream where his father is trapped in a teacup, and Carter is about to take a drink.

xxx

Friday is usually his favorite day of the week, but for some reason, it just feels the same as Monday. Robbie nods to him in the hallway, and he nods back nervously, slowly. He doesn't know what the hell that's all about. He hasn't even talked to Robbie since... yeah. He stops thinking about that. He doesn't want to go back there just yet. He's not wearing all black today. Just black pants and a grey t-shirt. And he's only wearing eyeliner. He woke up late, and he didn't really care all that much anyway. He doesn't want to go to the office, but he knows he'll have to, because he left his bag with Waller. He really hopes that wasn't a subconscious move on his part, because if it was he's even more screwed up than he originally thought. So, he stops at his locker first, and Parker is there waiting for him. A No Man's Land sticker now covers the place where "FREAK" had been written.

"Hope ya don't mind," she says as soon as Travis approaches. Travis wonders at the way her face always looks like there's a smile there waiting to pop out and surprise the world.

"Nah," he says, opening the locker and taking out a random book. When he turns back, she's still there, a smile on her face. "What's up?" he asks, closing the locker with his shoulder.

"Not much... I was just wondering... if you wanted to hang out this afternoon. Ya know, as friends and stuff. We could go to Mickey's?" Her eyes are so hopeful. Travis starts to say no, but then thinks about it. He really thinks about it. This is part of his problem. He's bad at keeping friends. _She's giving you a second chance, asshole,_ he thinks, _take it_.

"Yeah," he says, "that'd be cool."

"So, after school then?"

"Yeah."

"'Kay, see ya!"

"See ya..." But she's already skipping down the hall. A little warm feeling pokes at his heart. It feels good to have a friend again. But that warm feeling fades when he realizes where he has to go next. He sighs, closes his eyes for a moment, and then makes his way to the office.

xxx

The heavy oak door looms in front of him, foreboding and expected. He reaches a hand out to knock, and pulls it back quickly. The secretary glances at him, and eyebrow raised. He smiles shakily, and knocks.

"Come in!" Danny's voice is professional and deep, and Travis would laugh if not for the fact that they'd been playing tonsil hockey the last time they were in the same room together. He turns the doorknob and hopes to whatever deity will listen that it was all a waking dream.

The tension rises the moment Danny looks up.

He clears his throat.

"Yes, Mr. Strong… Can I help you?"

Travis tries to look at anything but him.

"I, uhm. I forgot my bag, after…"

"Yes!" Danny nearly drops the papers he's holding. "Yes, the um- secretary, Mrs. Hayes has it. Out there."

And know he knows it was a bad idea coming here. He also wishes he could sink into the floor and just disappear forever. He nods, because that's all he can think of to do, and as he walks out of the room and toward the secretary's desk he swears at himself in his head. '_What a fucking idiot._'

xxx

It's the last class of the day, English, and the substitute, Ms. Glass, is teaching them about something that's probably important. And the tension from this morning should be gone by now, but it isn't. If anything, it's getting worse. Travis can feel it, just under his skin. Before he knows it his hand is in the air.

"Yes, Travis?"

"Can I go to the bathroom?"

"I don't know, can you?"

Travis really wants to punch her, even if she is a woman. He gets pissed off when anybody does that. "Yes, I can," he says, and he grabs his things and walks out. He can hear laughter as he walks away, and some gasps, some murmurs of disapproval. He doesn't care. There's only one thing on his mind.

He doesn't really know how he's found him, or why he's by himself during last period. But there he is. Carter is smoking outside the very empty cafeteria. He doesn't notice Travis at first, but when he does, that smile creeps onto his face. The taunting, know-it-all smirk he reserves specifically for Travis. Travis walks up to him, takes the cigarette from between his lips, and throws it on the ground. Carter keeps on grinning, and grips Travis hard on the back of the neck. He caresses the side of his face with the other hand, and then starts leading Travis inside toward the closest bathroom.

They're in another handicapped stall. It's kind of sick in a way, Travis knows, but they're really the only ones big enough to fuck in. At least the kind of fucking he seems to like lately. Carter lets go of Travis, and pushes him gently into the wall. He leans in close, until Travis can feel his breath on the side of his neck.

"My turn."

He can hear the grin in Carter's voice, and it sends shivers up his spine, and puts tingles in all the right places. He only has a few seconds to think about how fucked up all this is before he feels his pants being pulled down. He's scared, and at the same time, he wants it. He wants Carter to hurt him, to fuck him like he fucked Carter before. No mercy.

But the first kiss is gentle. He thinks maybe he overestimated Carter. Maybe he should be the one in control again. But when Travis tries to roughly pull Carter against him, Carter simply grabs a hold of his wrists, and pins them against the wall above his head. Travis thinks that maybe he shouldn't _think_ do goddamn much.

The kisses alternate between sweet and bruising, and the touches and grabs and groping all blend together in a slow torturous pleasure that Travis can't even begin to define. And then comes the hard brutal thrusting. Tears leak from his eyes, and at first it just hurts, but then he feels Carter's dick hit that one spot, and keep hitting it.

Travis grunts out, "faster…" And Carter is quick to oblige.

Travis can feel himself so close to cumming, and that's when Carter speaks.

"You like it?"

Travis's eyes are practically rolled back in his head, and all he can do is moan gutturally.

"I asked you a question, Travis. Do you fucking like it?" For all the work he's doing, Carter's voice seems relatively calm, but Travis can feel the underlying intensity burning through his veins.

"Yes!" He yells, gripping Carter's shoulders tightly, and looking right at him, fighting the urge to just let go. "I fucking love it." And then he's gone. His mouth is working, but not a sound is coming out. Carter's face is a blur in front of him as he cums. And then it's over.

Travis can't believe what just happened. How fucked up he is. How fucked up they both must be. When Travis is finally able to see straight again, he sees that Carter is staring at him, ever present grin faded slightly. He sighs, and approaches Travis where he's still leaning against the wall. He pulls up Travis' pants and buttons them up, fixes his shirt, runs his hand through his hair. Carter kisses Travis on the forehead. Then he leaves.

And as he's walking to Mickey's, Travis remembers hearing the swish of the door opening right before Carter asked him if he liked it. '_Stupid answer, Travis. Stupid fucking answer._'


	6. The Demon Inbetween

**A/N:** I know kids; it's been a while. But know that I'm still thinking about this, even if I'm not always writing it. It might take me a while to finish this. It's like it is with any other long story: even if you have everything planned out, you still need inspiration to strike in order to feel what you're writing. So, here's the next installment, with much love from me.

* * *

**Beneath**

_by HoldenHitHollywood_

Chapter Six: The Demon Inbetween

Hanging out with Parker was good for him. She only hinted at asking what went wrong, and when he avoided the question she let it drop. He appreciated that. For once, he had actually had a good time. Why couldn't it just stay that way? Why couldn't the universe see fit to just let that feeling of buoyancy linger?

The house is dark when he walks in. That doesn't make sense, because it's not that late. Something should be happening. There should be some sound somewhere. Nothing. He clicks on the light in the living room, and the brightness almost blinds him. It still doesn't feel natural in here.

"Mom?" he calls, hoping she'll answer. "Mom, I'm home!"

Soft footfalls make their way down the stairs, slowly. A scared pale face looks at him. Her eyes are different.

"Where's dad?" He really shouldn't care; his father's a complete dick. But he does, just a little. He briefly wonders if she finally snapped and killed him.

"He's out. Probably drinking." Her voice is quiet, and yet more clear. Clearer than it's ever been. Travis looks at his mother, maybe for the first time in years. She's small in stature, compact with dirty-blonde hair. So different from his father.

"Travis…" She walks down the remaining stairs toward him, and now he can see the suitcase in her hand. Before he can say anything, she speaks again. "Go pack your bags."

For a moment he just stands there, staring. He feels kind of numb, like he doesn't know how to be happy. "Okay." Like so many other times, the word just slips out of his mouth. Only this time he doesn't want to stop it. The first step up the staircase feels like the first step he's ever really taken.

"Hurry up," his mother tells him as he goes, "I don't know when he'll be back, and I want to be long gone before he is."

So Travis packs his bags, not knowing what this means for his future. His friends, his… Danny. Anger and confusion bubble up beside the happiness, and he can't help but overflow as he fits his life into a large duffel bag and his backpack. He goes on autopilot, the tears blurring his vision. When he's done, he goes downstairs, and he and his mom get in her car and they go.

And right now, that has to be enough.

xxx

It's Saturday, and he's waking up in a motel, not too far from his… old… house. His mom only had so much money, and she refused to let him sleep in a car. She said that's what she'd do if it were just her, but she'd spent too much time not protecting him already.

He finds it strange to be here, with his mother. And he realizes that they haven't talked in what seems like forever. Not really.

He finds a note on the nightstand next to the lumpy motel bed. It says that his mother went to get some food, that she'd be back in half an hour or so.

Rubbing his eyes, he takes his hands away to find black makeup smudging them. And he wants to laugh. Laugh so hard that he chokes up his heart and it doesn't have to beat anymore, so then he won't be able to feel it pounding a hole through his chest.

He thinks maybe he's losing his mind.

Smudge and all, his hand comes down on the tan motel phone, and he dials a number he's committed to memory.

"Hello?" The voice sounds gravelly and tired, and only now does Travis glance at the clock to find that it's five thirty AM. He didn't think he was capable of waking up this early.

His voice freezes for a moment before he speaks. "H-hi… Danny."

"Uh… Travis?" His voice is more alert now, and Travis smiles as he can imagine him sitting up just a little bit straighter.

"Yeah…" For a moment, he almost forgets what he called to tell him. But then he sits up, and the sensation of his foot brushing his backpack brings everything back. "My mom and I… uh, we left."

There's silence on the other end, and then he can hear Danny clearing his throat. "You, uh… okay…" A pause, then, "Where are you?"

"In a motel… about an hour and a half out of town." Was this really what he called for? To discuss school arrangements with a man he wasn't supposed to like the way he did? "I don't-uhm. I don't know what to do." His tears are like acid, burning confused rivulets down his face. "I don't even know how to feel."

And now that laugh feeling is bubbling in his throat again. He hears comforting murmurs on the other side as he hiccups and giggles, and the laughter turns into unrelenting sobs that rock his body. Through the fog that's floating around his brain he manages to speak again. "I-I think I'm lo-losing my mind." And it's the most hilarious thing he's ever said; because, really, hasn't it already gone?

"It's going to be okay…" These five simple words shine through, and it's so blinding that he almost doesn't understand at first.

'_It's going to be okay_.'

Is it? Does everything just fall into place now? With his father out of his life, will he just suddenly feel better about himself? He can't believe it's that simple. Nothing ever really is; this he knows irrevocably.

"I have to go…" he speaks through questions and protests on the other end. "I think I love you." And with that he hangs up, and lays back down on the bed. He closes his eyes tight, counts backward from ten, and dreams of when his father was a good man.


End file.
